


Sink or Swim

by Lurkany



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Drowning, Flashbacks, Gen, Other, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 02:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15184463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurkany/pseuds/Lurkany
Summary: Blackwatch requires a wide skill set. Swimming is one of them. The desert isn't the best place to learn and Deadlock didn't have lessons. And Jesse doesn't like water.





	Sink or Swim

The water sparkled, the blue surface just barely lapping against the walls of the pool. He gazed at the bottom, eyes trailing the length of it as it slowly eased further and further away from him until it became too dark to see the bottom. The smell of chlorine struck him and clung to the inside of his nose. Boisterous laughter and chattering echoed off the walls from a group of people splashing around. One brave soul dared the high dive, bouncing on the end twice before flipping once and slicing through the water with barely a splash.

“What are you waiting for? Dive in!” Gabriel's voice commanded, hand coming to slap Jesse's bare back. Without waiting the Blackwatch commander ran and dove into the pool himself. Seconds later he reemerged on his back, falling into a well practiced backstroke.

He followed Gabriel as he cut through the water. Further and further he went onto the deep side. He made it look so easy. The scrawny man looked down, watching the water lap at the side. It beckoned him. Teased him for being afraid.

_“You know how to swim?”_

_“Course I do, I ain't dumb.”_

_“Great. Work at least two hours of swimming into your regimen a week.”_  

He didn't actually think he'd get called out on it.

His eyes scanned over the excessively large and deep pool again. Two more entered from the opposite door with towels slung over their shoulders. He watched as the younger of the two shed the towel and dove straight for Gabriel. He looked back down, watching the water rush back up toward the side of the pool. Taunting. He caught Gabriel's brief look - both a puzzled and commanding expression - before he turned back to Fareeha and her mom.

The water engulfed his foot, separating the moment the ball of his foot broke the surface, and slithered up and around his ankle when it touched the rough bottom. The other followed quickly after it. The water was cool, refreshing even, but it did not match the ice flowing in his veins. The shallow, fast beats ringing in his ears drowned out the gleeful screaming across the pool.

_“Martin, Donzel, and Jesse take a boat to intercept. You'll wait here until they pass then come from behind.”_

_“These are Los Muertos -”_

_“Good for you, Jesse, for noticing! Now shut up and follow along. Fucking kid. Throw these on before you head out. Make sure one of those omnic fucks survives.”_

_"You're starting a gang war over guns?” Jesse asked. He realized then the only reason Elijah got the guns was for a piss poor attempt at initiating a war._

_“If it goes well, yes.” Their boss looked pointedly at him, patience written on his face in his narrowed eyes. “Neither of them likes each other and with both gone or weak we can take more control. But, that's not the only thing, shit for brains. Mainframe has information…”_

Each agonizing step led him further into the water. He stopped when it licked his knees. Water soaked into the edges of his trunks with every wave rocking into him.

He nearly screamed.

Internally he was dying. The smell of the pool water seared his nose and throat. His eyes felt like they were on fire. His heart banged erratically in his ribcage. Every inhale ripped through his nose and caught in his throat before it could reach his lungs.

He should have just asked for help. Been honest about not being able to swim. About water. But he was Jesse McCree. No one helped him when he was with Deadlock. No one helped him hone his skills or climb the ranks. He did that by himself. Every kill, every maneuver, every fucking word he spoke was him. It got him beat a few times but he learned from that too. He learned how to read people long before the person even knew themselves. Learned how to talk to people. No one taught him that. He taught himself how to shoot. Day after day in that god forsaken desert sun. He was the fastest draw with the most accuracy. He taught himself that.

He never needed to learn to swim in a desert.

He should have known he'd get called on it. This wasn't Deadlock, despite the black brand on his arm screaming his affiliation. And his boss wasn't anything like the ones who had headed Deadlock.

_“Elijah’s gonna get us killed.” Jesse murmured._

_The boat rocked in tandem with the river’s motion. His partners shook their head. The paint smeared on their bodies, the haircuts (Jesse did not care for the spiky hair) and punk outfits made them look the part. Jesse didn't feel the part. His mind barreled down the millions of reasons why this shouldn't work. Why it wasn't well thought out. Why -_

_“Man, you gotta stop sayin’ that. Bad luck. Besides, it's gonna go off without a hitch, you'll see.”_

_"Don. Elijah gave me an smg. Rapid fire, close range, no aim, spray and pray, over heating, mag eatin’ gun. I'm supposed to target these guys down with it. In a moving boat chasing another boat.”_

_“You're the best shot.”_

_“I'm the best shot with a weapon that can be aimed. A revolver. Rifle. Pistols that fire **once** when I pull the trigger **once**. Not something that vomits bullets!”_

_“Muertos doesn't use semi’s man. It's part of the gig.”_

_"They also don't operate in this area!” he growled back, wondering how he could wrap his head around this faster than the rest of them. The thought occurred again that all of this could be an elaborate set up by Elijah to get them killed - he never liked Jesse - and not have Mainframe get wise to their attempted theft. He liked to think the man wouldn't go to that much trouble but he knew how their last leader died. He felt unnerved the longer they waited and the more he thought about it._

Water teased his fingertips at every opportunity. It lapped at them when his hand relaxed enough to touch the surface; splashed after them if he twitched them away. His legs were numb. The shorts clung to his thighs and billowed out as the water pushed and pulled against Jesse. His body was rooted to his slightly deeper position in the pool. He couldn't bear another step nor could he wind his way back to solid ground.

The lights overhead blurred on the surface. They melted into a large glare that made it impossible to sort out each fixture. Their light didn't penetrate the blue depths far enough. Underneath the surface glare lay unchallenged shadows, growing more prominent the further down his eyes traveled. His legs wavered in shape and size with the movement of the water as he looked down at them. The gentle darkness encompassing his feet and threatening to devour the rest of him added to the illusion of his morphing legs. It made him sway the longer he watched them pulse with the water.

The scent of earthiness itched at the back of his nose.

_He struggled with the omnic and shoved him off the boat. But the omnic latched onto his arm and pulled him overboard. He emerged, spluttering. Flailing to keep himself afloat. Strong arms wrapped themselves around his neck and dragged him back to the darkness._

The pool surged forward to meet him, enveloping Jesse in a chilling embrace.

_He choked, desperately clawing at the arms around him. Dirty water filled his mouth, coating the insides in a thin film. It rushed up his nose and burst down his throat when he inhaled. His eyes burned when he opened them, desperately trying to see the light above. He could just make out the trails of paint leaching off his skin as that light drew away._

A wracking cough met his ears. Wet. Painful.

_Jesse thrashed, slamming his elbow into the omnic as hard as he could. But omnics weren't people. They took a lot more abuse than a human. They weren't soft. He managed to shake loose and kick away from the intelligent machine. Those few seconds of air felt like an eternity when he breached the surface._

_Not that he stayed long. Flailing only goes so far. He bobbed, catching gulps of oxygen and water, usually together. Panic ran through his body. He had to get out of the river. Between the rivulets of lime green mixed with water pouring over his eyes, the searing pain flaring up in his skull, and the choppy water he could hardly discern where the shore was._

His chest ached.

_A hand latched onto his exposed ankle. The expressionless metallic face glinted at him from below. Down he went. They reached the bottom in seconds and the omnic wasted no time. He clambered on top and pressed down on Jesse's throat._

_Jesse held that last breath as long as he could even as his chest burned to release it and gasp for more. His fingers searched the murky depths for anything - a rock, stick, bloody shoe if there was one! - while his other hand tried holding the omnic off. The slow motion struggling came to a stop when Jesse whipped the gun from the river bed and unloaded into its face. The dozen bullets ripped through the metal and whirled passed for a couple feet before dropping off._

_The omnic floated off, leaving Jesse free to kick off the bottom. His chest felt unbearably tight. He could see the sun but his whole body felt tired. He remembered surfacing in flickers. Above the water, land five feet to his right. Blackout. Underwater. Three feet till land. Blackout._

_Jesse emptied his stomach. He made it somehow. He retched until he couldn't, body shaking. Water dripped from his nose. Saliva mixed with that filthy water fell from his mouth. His hair stuck to his face and the remnants of paint slithered from his forehead into his eyes and over his features. Every bit of him felt tight and spent. He coughed, a deep reverberating sound, followed by choking inhales._

_He watched his arms shake as he braced himself up. Tired eyes followed the streams of paint transform from colored bones to abstraction. Puddles formed on his hands and swirling green stained his arms as it dried. Muertos had glow-in-the-dark tattoos. Not fucking paint -something he brought to everyone's attention long before this shit job - that was always visible. Jesse followed the trails down his right arm to his hand. He still had a death grip on the sub-machine gun._

_Jesse panted. He tried to move away from the water threatening to drag him back in but he couldn't coax any movement from his limbs. The best he could manage was falling to his side to avoid the slimy vomit below him. He hoped he wouldn't get pulled back in but knew he couldn't help himself if it happened. With that, he closed his eyes._

Faces waved in front of him. His head pounded in his ears. Everything from his nostrils to his stomach burned. His lungs ached. God did he feel tired. Sound filtered in through the haze, some familiar and some not. The booming voice of his boss cut through as he yelled at people to clear out.

Jesse blinked again, a woman’s tattooed face swimming into view. Ana.

“Jesse, are you alright?” Her hair hung in a great black curtain around her shoulders, something he couldn't help but focus on. He gazed absently at the long, water laden tresses. She asked again and he managed a groan.

His tongue weighed a million pounds and his lips refused to work right. Ana coaxed him upright while a towel wrapped its way around him. She assured him they would get him to medical soon. His head fell forward just as Gabriel swam into view.

_Jesse woke up. Alone. Both boats gone. Death grip still on the gun. He groaned as he got up. Hissed as he adjusted to the penetrating ache in his very bones as he moved. Someone met him on the side of the road. They thought he needed help but they would be the ones that ended up needing it._

_They could survive without their car._

_It was a long drive by himself but he made it back home. Back to Deadlock Gorge. The looks on people's faces when he rolled up in a nice car looking like a drowned dog fed his anger. They left him behind. He threw open the door to the propane shop and marched to the back without so much as an announcement._

_The genuine looks of surprise etched on Elijah’s face told him everything he needed to know. “Well I'll be damned! Mcr-”_

_Jesse’s fist shook. Blood marred his knuckles as he glared down at their boss. He lay there, stunned as trickles of blood ran from his nose._

_In the following skirmishes with Mainframe Jesse saw an opening to deal with their problem. They had a new boss within the day._

“Jesse, what happened?” Gabriel lifted his chin up, eyes crossing every inch of his face for any sign of additional distress. Fareeha sat to their side, brown eyes concerned.

Jesse wet his lips, tasting the chemical laden water as he did so, and found his voice.

“Can't swim.”


End file.
